


Thread

by LittleAprilFlowers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little bit of blood, Fluff, Healing, M/M, prompt on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleAprilFlowers/pseuds/LittleAprilFlowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets into a fight at the bar and Cas comes to make sure he's okay.</p>
<p>Written as a prompt for my friend Lee (thursdayscecil on Tumblr) as a one word, which I have used for the title. Just some fluff :3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thread

Normally Sam would do this for him, but this was one of those days where all Dean was going to get from his little brother was a disapproving eye roll as he dragged himself through the door of their shared motel room, bruised and battered from a nasty fight in a bar with some asshole who was being too forward with the cute redhead behind the counter and who needed to be put in his place.

Of course, being a knight in shining armour had its setbacks, and getting a bottle of beer smashed around the side of his face (a dirty move and one the son of a bitch suffered for) had left a nasty gash along Dean's cheek which he was currently trying to seal with stitches threaded by his non-writing hand.

Sam had gone out to see if they had any more stain removal stuff in town from one of the 24 hour stores, as this was Dean's favourite shirt and it was currently splattered with claret; both his and that of the unlucky few who had pissed him off. Dean was just trying to finish off the last stitch when a familiar flutter of wings made him lose concentration and jab the needle into his sore skin.

"Dammit Cas..." Dean hissed under his breath, refusing to turn around and acknowledge him, seeing his trenchcoat reflected fuzzily in the grubby bathroom mirror. Castiel stared at the back of Dean's head as if willing him to turn, and when he didn't, the angel sighed.

"Don't even think about it." Dean warned through gritted teeth, "I don't need a speech. The look I got from Sam was more than enough."

"I'm not here to chastise you, Dean. Only to see how you were coping with the current situation."

"Yeah, absolutely great." he drawled sarcastically in response, "All the stoner vampires have been beheaded and shredded."

".....you did also burn the remains?"

Dean chuckled humourlessly. "No, we totally forgot to do that after all the nests we've already razed."

"This is not a laughing matter, Dean. They could easily resurrect and--"

Dean turned around then, the thread dangling almost comically from his bloodied skin. "It's called sarcasm, Cas. Still not got the hang of that one, huh?" he muttered, reaching back to the sink to find the tiny scissors from the motel room's med kit, tying the thread in a tight little knot and snipping off the excess. He carelessly discarded the needle in the sink, briefly pondering whether he'd clean up the blood splatters on the porcelain or leave it for the cleaning lady to deal with once they'd lefttomorrow morning, eventually deciding on the latter and storming past Castiel into the empty bedroom. The angel followed him and watched him storm around the space, muttering as he rid himself of the ruined shirt, tossing it onto the floor and throwing himself down on the bed.

"Can I..... take a look?" Cas offered quietly, crossing the distance to Dean's feet. The headache starting to properly throb between Dean's eyes made him groan as he looked up but he nodded weakly. The angel approached and reached out for Dean's face, but the man flinched away and frowned up at him questioningly.

"If you let me touch it, I could heal the skin." Castiel explained, "It won't scar that way."

It takes a moment for Dean to deliberate that suggestion before he sighed quietly. "Yeah, okay. Please."

Tentatively the angel reached out to brush his fingertips along the haphazard stitching, making Dean cringe as he prodded the bruises. Cas made no apologies however, apparently transfixed on the wound as he mapped it out. After a while Dean was aware of his cheek feeling slightly numb as Castiel eased the thread out surprisingly painlessly before sealing the damaged skin.

Dean sighed happily. "Thanks." he mumbled drowsily. He had his eyes closed, so he didn't see the rare smile that tugged on Castiel's lips. The angel let his fingers linger longer than necessary on the fading inflammation, admiring the bone structure of Dean's face - his cheekbones, his nose, the scattering of freckles across his face...

"Uhh, Cas?"

Dean's questioning tone caused Castiel to flinch away, looking at him apologetically and stepping away from the side of the bed. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I should go." he announced, and before Dean could respond he was gone in a rustle of feathers.

He stared at the space that the angel had occupied and felt a weird tugging sensation in his chest, which he forced down as he turned over on the bed and closed his eyes determinedly.

Sam wouldn't question the rapid healing come the morning, like he never did, and Dean wouldn't bring it up either. Neither of them would probably see Castiel for a while and would probably been in trouble when they next did. Dean and Castiel would continue to conceal what Sam and countless others can see as plain as day, because that's just how they did things.

That's just the way it goes.


End file.
